


The Audition

by YuriPirozhki (AceOfSpace)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Gen, One-Shot, YOI Twitter Collab Game, YOI Twitter Collab Game Group 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 15:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13216824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceOfSpace/pseuds/YuriPirozhki
Summary: “Wait a minute-”Yuri turned his head, the look on his face hardly hiding his disdain.“I know you,” announced Chris with confidence.The boy’s teeth gritted as he feared the worst.Oh no. No. Please be wrong.“You’re the cat kid!”Shit._____In which Yuri Plisetsky is an up-and-coming actor trying to leavethatrole behind him.





	The Audition

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of a collection showcased on Twitter by user @yoicollabs. The theme for this round was 'As Seen on TV', so our group chose to create an actors AU!  
> Enjoy!

The room was starkly quiet, the tension in it tangible. A line of firm plastic chairs were occupied against a cream wall in need of repainting, and not a word had been uttered in minutes. Instead, there sat a row of actors, amateurs and professionals alike, either hibernating inside their minds or stretching their arms to the heavens, releasing nervous energy and getting comfortable in the space. After all, to audition for a television show pilot was rather stressful. While not every program was picked up by a network, they always had the potential to be life-changing, to catapult an unknown into the throws of superstardom, to shape the culture of a generation and the one that followed. 

Those who were more outwardly nervous tended to be newer to the audition process, the ones who had packed up their lives in search for their big break in entertainment, those who had just signed with an agent and had been told they had ‘star quality’. There were actors who looked more aloof, sitting forward on their seats and leaning hard against the wall behind them, staring at their phones while waiting for time to pass them by. Such were those who’d become used to the environment, had either done a few decent jobs here and there, or had been rejected enough times to the point where they were no longer affected.

And then there was Yuri Plisetsky.

He was different to the other auditionees in more ways than one, neither of which were hard to spot. The most obvious difference was in his build, his waif-like stature causing him to stand out from everyone else in the room without difficulty. He was also, at five foot four, considerably shorter than his competition, and such was likely due to his age. While the casting criteria called for a blond male aged eighteen to twenty-four, Yuri was set to turn seventeen in the coming March. However, he’d managed to score an audition anyway. Multi award-winning actress Lilia Baranovskaya had taken quite a liking to the boy, and she’d been able to pull a few strings. For that, he was immensely grateful.

This role, if he was successful in getting it, would be just what he needed to avoid being typecast. He would have the freedom to explore more mature and emotional content. He could begin to be taken seriously as an adult actor, a professional in the industry here to stay. He could leave his past - and his past roles - behind him. 

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” 

Drawn from his thoughts, Yuri cast a glance sideways and met the eyes of a stranger. Tall, broad-shouldered and with facial hair that wasn’t patchy, he appeared to be in his early twenties at least. Yuri briefly studied his face for lines, deciding in his mind as to how well he’d suit the role on offer before he quickly observed his hair. Despite the majority of his locks being a honey blonde, there was a significant contrast in his root colour. Didn’t he bother to fix his dye job before the audition? Yuri furrowed his brow at the thought.

“Mm mm.” He motioned vaguely to the empty seat, suggesting that he could sit down.

“Merci,” the stranger commented with a warm smile.

“No problem,” Yuri muttered. _Weirdo._

“I’m Christophe, by the way,” offered the older man. “You can call me Chris.”

It took all of Yuri’s willpower to not let out an enormous sigh. Why did he of all people have to be stuck with the talker? He quite liked the silence, as anxiety-inducing as it might have been for some. He appreciated the notable absence of whining and nervous chatter, of hearing the audition script being read in thirty-seven different ways and having him forget his own unique spin on the dialogue tone.

His answer to Chris was short and sweet. “Yuri Plisetsky.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Yuri only grunted in response. 

He continued to feel Chris’ gaze linger on him as the seconds passed. Had he not made it clear that he wanted to keep quiet? Did he sound too inviting when he introduced himself? Or was his non-verbal cue for Chris to leave him alone not convincing? Instead, the actor beside him continued to study his features in spite of Yuri’s dismissing eye roll, and he muttered his last name a few times under his breath like it was the clue to a riddle he’d forgotten.

“Wait a minute-”

Yuri turned his head, the look on his face hardly hiding his disdain.

“I know you,” announced Chris with confidence.

The boy’s teeth gritted as he feared the worst. _Oh no. No. Please be wrong._

“You’re the cat kid!”

_Shit._

Yuri all but melted into his seat as Chris began to hum the theme song of his dreaded children’s show. Sure, the television series was what had thrown him into relative stardom, but being the poster boy of channel JGP came with its own share of pitfalls. The show he’d been the lead of since the age of twelve was given to him as a blessing and a curse simultaneously. The revenue that had come from the series was enough to fund his grandfather’s retirement, to get them both in a house with air conditioning and running hot water, and to pay for his own college education. Still, Yuri knew that it came at a price; that he would be remembered forevermore as the star of _Anything’s Pawsibble,_ the story of a cat magically turned into a middle schooler, and one with magical powers, nonetheless. The role had cemented him as a favourite amongst children, a popular teenage heartthrob, and a reason for parents to empty their wallets, but would he ever be taken seriously as an adult actor? Yuri was uncertain.

“Anything’s pawssible-,” Chris quietly sang, “when you’ve got nine lives!” A chuckle left his lips and he gave Yuri a gentle nudge on the side. “That is you, right?” he asked, only very slightly doubting his instinct. “I’ve got a little cousin who loves you! I don’t think she understands that you don’t actually have a tail, though.”

“Uh huh,” Yuri deliberately tried to block him out. “Okay.”

“Sorry,” he offered. “You probably get this kind of thing all the time, but maybe with more screaming, right?”

“Only every time I leave the house.” The boy raised his eyebrows before moving his gaze to the floor. “You have _not_ been in this business for long, have you, Chris? It _is_ Chris, right?” Yuri knew perfectly well that that was his name.

The older man’s cheeks turned the slightest shade of rose as he smiled, pleased with himself. “Well actually, I was in _League of Swords._ ”

Yuri looked less than impressed. An avid viewer of the fantasy drama that had taken the world by storm, he already knew that Chris’ role was hardly anything memorable, for otherwise, he would have noticed. 

“Really?” he asked, feigning interest. “Who’d you play? ‘ _Man at Bar?_ ”

There was a pause.

“ _Wounded soldier number three._ ”

“So basically any role in this would be an improvement for you.”

The corner of Yuri’s lip twinged upwards as Chris didn’t bother to give an answer. He didn’t need to.

The series they were auditioning for was a family sitcom called _Over the Hill_ , a series that documented the day-to-day shenanigans of an ageing single mother, her decision to leave her country town and move to the city to open a restaurant, all while bringing her three children with her. While it wasn’t exactly the drama-filled, raunchy and emotional content that Yuri hoped to immerse himself in as his career progressed, an all-ages show was a giant leap in the right direction, the one that would leave his magical cat boy days a distant memory. He was hoping to land the role of the oldest son, Oskar, a nineteen-year-old college dropout and general nuisance to his mother. Working in the restaurant bar in a job he’d been given out of pity, Oskar spent more time chatting up pretty ladies than he did serving patrons. Based on the information he’d been given, Yuri was already hopeful about what his future would hold if he was successful in getting the role. He’d be playing a bad boy character, and he wouldn’t be expected to be the perfect role model that the management at JGP wanted him to be. He’d get storylines about sex and drugs and maturity and rebellion. His days of cat puns and preaching friendship would be behind him. 

“You’re auditioning for Alex, right?” asked Chris, seemingly attempting to make conversation again. 

Yuri scoffed, positively offended. Did he look like he was suitable for Alex? The fourteen-year-old social disaster with no friends, and no fashion sense? He couldn’t think of a role any more boring. After all, he’d spent the last four years doing the whole ‘navigating middle school’ shtick on _Anything’s Pawssible._

“What? _No,_ ” he retorted, as it if it should have been obvious. 

“I was gonna say, I thought this was all Oskar auditions today, but … surely…” Chris’ eyes had narrowed and he appeared to be looking at Yuri quite sceptically. “Aren’t they looking for someone aged eighteen to twenty-four?”

“I could say the same for you, old man,” murmured Yuri in annoyance. “What are you, thirty?”

“I’m twenty-six,” snapped Chris, his narrowed brow showing that he was taken aback. “What! There’s no way you’re eighteen.”

Yuri sat up straighter in his chair to make himself look taller, and he puffed up his chest. “I’m _almost_ eighteen!” In truth, he was _almost_ almost eighteen, but he decided that whatever Chris didn’t know wasn’t going to hurt him.

“Sure, kiddo. I’m surprised they even let you in here.”

When Yuri refused to initiate any further conversation, he found himself listening to yet another question. 

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

His teeth gritted in anger and he hissed, for he knew that such a question was deliberate; that it was an attempt to make fun of him and his acting history. It was at times like this when Yuri wished he possessed the same feline traits as his on-screen persona, that he could produce razor-sharp claws at will and use them to gouge someone’s eye out. He wished he could escape out of the sixth story window and land perfectly on his feet without a care. Instead, however, he wasn’t really magical, but in this environment, just another actor albeit one of the best and most experienced in the room. As much as Yuri wanted to reply with a scathing remark to shut Chris up for good, he woefully had to hold his tongue. Too many industry professionals were around, and if he behaved too badly, the consequences could be dire.

“Yuri Plisetsky,” announced a secretary as she poked her head out of the audition room door. “Please come in.”

_Thank God_ , he thought to himself with a sigh. Chris wouldn’t be able to follow him in there.

He rose from the plastic chair, promptly leaving the older man’s company, and followed the secretary’s voice to a door halfway across the room. Beyond it was a scene to which he was all too familiar; a long and narrow table manned by four industry professionals, among them the casting director and the show’s producer. An ‘X’ marked on the floor indicated as to where Yuri should stand, and he entered the room with as much of a confidence and a calmness as he could muster, given the irritating prior circumstances. His hands by his sides and his posture straight, he waited a few moments before greetings were given by the panel.

“Yuri, darling,” began the casting director, a woman in her forties with her dark hair in a low bun, “I’m afraid there’s been a problem.”

His emerald eyes widened in fear; a subconscious reaction he hoped the panel hadn’t noticed. ‘A problem’ could have been anything. They could have fallen in love with the last auditionee and made all other candidates redundant. There could have been an issue with his resume, his headshot, or the monologue that he’d prepared. The possibilities were endless, and the way the casting director spoke made things seem like they were rather unfortunate.

“You were sent the wrong email yesterday,” the older woman informed him with disdain. “I know you’re very busy - and I’ve had that secretary fired - but you shouldn’t be here today. We’ve got no intention of testing you out for Oskar.”

“Oh.” 

It took almost all of his willpower to keep his brow from scaling his forehead and his jaw from dropping open. 

“I hope you’re not disappointed.”

“No, of course not,” Yuri murmured through gritted teeth, already planning a way to set the panel’s table on fire. There was no way that any of the show’s staff knew how he’d had his heart set on the role, that to him it meant a leap forward in a direction favourable to his career, and it symbolised the destruction of his typecasting. He couldn’t lash out and tell them, not when they had so much leverage in terms of his future. Instead, he hastily tucked his fingers into his trouser pockets, to prevent himself fidgeting or making obscene gestures for which he couldn’t apologise.

“However, Lilia had a lot of wonderful things to say about you,” the casting director continued, seemingly in an attempt to diffuse the situation, “and it was enough to convince us that the role of Alex was practically made for you.”

How he wanted so badly to roll his eyes in protest. Of _course_ the role was made for him, almost as if the natural progression of acting was to play an awkward pre-teen and then an awkward high schooler. 

“As a matter of fact, we’re shortlisting you. The screen test is in a week on Monday. _I_ will send you an email personally. Any questions?”

The only question lingering in his mind related to what Chris would say when he discovered how the audition went. He knew that he wouldn’t able to get away without a conversation.

“I knew you weren’t gonna get it,” Chris informed him slyly. “There’s no way you could pass for eighteen. Not a cat in hell’s chance.”

“I’d keep my mouth shut if I were you;” quickly retorted Yuri, “-pushing your luck when you’re closer to thirty than twenty. Besides, you haven’t even had your audition yet.” 

Many of the remaining auditionees were yet to be seen, the majority of them still in relative silence. Annoyingly enough, the older actor still seemed as social as ever when Yuri emerged from the audition room, ever curious to know the boy’s chances for the role they both wanted. He had hoped that Chris would be called next, meaning that he could slip out into the street and leave without so much as a passing glance. He had already packed up his belongings into a black backpack and had it slung over his shoulders, ready to leave at a moment’s notice. There was no need to give any proper goodbyes; it wasn’t as if _he_ of all people was going to be Oskar.

“Y’know for someone who didn’t get the part, you’re sure acting like you’re the cat’s pyjamas-”

“For fuck’s sake!” he called out just a fraction too loudly, enough to make a few heads turn. “ _Enough_ with the cat puns, for the love of God.” He paused for a moment to take a breath. “And for your information, I _am_ the cat’s pyjamas. I was so impressive and talented and charming that they pretty much gave me Alex’s part on a silver platter. All I have to do is show up at the final screen tests, where you probably won’t be.”

Chris scoffed. 

“You’re lying.”

“Am not.”

“I know you’re just saying that to rile me up,” the older man insisted before folding his hands behind his head, “but that trick won’t work on me. You’re just trying to psyche me out because you know my chances are better than yours.”

Yuri didn’t know why he continued to engage in such banter with someone he barely knew. Sure, it was entertaining but not the kind of fun that would fuel him for long enough. Then there was the fact that he had a screen test to prepare for, and in not much time, to boot. He disregarded the remarks at first, instead choosing to turn his back on Chris and walk towards the door. It was funny how a slight turn of events could have changed his mannerisms and behaviours like this. Originally so eager to start friendly conversation, to now accusing him of manipulation; it was rather interesting, as far as Yuri was concerned. He knew that deep down, it was only because Chris was scared. After all, who wouldn’t be intimidated by a seasoned acting veteran as Yuri Plisetsky?

While standing in the doorframe, Yuri turned his head, tucking a lock of golden hair behind his ear.

“Maybe.”

He caught a glimpse of Chris’ furrowed brow and confused expression.

“Or maybe not,” teased Yuri. _“Anything’s Pawssible.”_


End file.
